


I don't wanna know

by cawkids



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Character Death, Decapitation, Gen, Multi, Non-Chronological, Please bare with me, Prince!Prompto, Roleswap, Snippets, ardyn and prompto sorta swap places, dark prompto, good guy ardyn, lets explore how much of an asshole bahamut can be together!, oracle!Prompto, past prompto/ardyn, this is cheesy and cliche
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-17 11:06:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13657743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cawkids/pseuds/cawkids
Summary: Ardyn is a Prince and Healer of the Lucis line.And his love is a blessing from the Astrals, who also holds the power of light and life.Cursed to never die for their wrong right-doings, they try live life through the ages.Though during their struggle, they are separated.When they finally meet, the stars have other plans."Funny, fate."(unbeta'd)(Chapters told from Ardyn's point of view)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello, this is a weird au but i couldn't stop typing things so...  
> this is a little weird, so if you get confused at some parts, im sorry hbhbh

His breath left his chest. His heart slowed. 

There he was. Standing--No.  _ Towering _ over Lady Lunafreya.

Oh this was bad. This was very, very bad. He pondered a look towards his nephew. He was very still. How frightening. Leviathan must've whipped him too hard. He thought of where the other two might be. They were separated, you see. An explosion. Funny, fate. 

Ignis was left by himself, which he didn't worry about. Ignis was a clever boy and could look after himself. He was very glad he was left with Gladiolus. But the man bolted to try and get to Noctis as soon as he could. He didn't protest in the slightest. After all, Gladiolus was the King's Shield. 

He had watched the retreating figure in silence, then turned to see the clear view he had of- 

Prompto Aldercapt. 

Yes. That was the name he introduced himself as. The young adoptive Prince of Niflheim. The one who flounced into the King’s Court that fateful day, with a delightful look of glee and the body language of an excitable five year old. Prompto’s mouth sprouting words of peace and treaties, tied together with the joining of Lady Lunafreya and Prince Noctis. 

He tried to not shake and cower. He was not a man to do so. Yet the charming young lad always had the ability to make him do things he never could. With his quick wit and cheeky grins, 'Prompto' had the magic to bring the world to his knees. 

He knew. He's watched him do it before. Before; a time that his mind could never erase, though he couldn't even remember what Ignis cooked yesterday. 

A time where he wore the crown of the fallen kingdom that hadn't turned to dust. A time where in his hand, rested another of fairer skin. A time where the blood underneath ran pure as light. 

Yes. He thought. Time is a funny thing. And purity was never meant to last so long. 

He continued to watch in silence. Continued to watch Altissia fall to the wrath of Leviathan. 

Continued to watch Prompto, in all his glorious malevolence, tear Lady Lunafreya asunder. Her torn neck gushing repulsive black rot, and turbid blood. Prompto’s shrills of mania danced around his ears as he gazed at the Niflheim Prince holding Lady Lunafreya’s severed head in his hand. The ring of the lucii in the other. 

Because such is the will of the Astrals, he would say. Prompto had said, while looking out towards the large grass fields of Solheim, where his hand rested in Ardyn's.


	2. Chapter 2

“My dear, you--”

“I have it. It’s alright!”

“You know you can’t lift that yet, its simply too heavy!”

“Oh, you’re such a worrywart A--Ah!”

He caught the fallen blond before his back could touch the ground. He gave the blond a look of ‘I told you so’ and righted them.

The blond smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, my saviour.”

“Now that is a title I haven’t heard for quite some time…”

“Well. It has been years. We are probably long forgotten by now. I don’t believe I even recall my true name anymore.”

“I do.”

“Of course you do, you sap.” The blond kissed him on the lips this time, before settling more into the embrace they held. Head on his chest, the blond mumbled. 

“What was that?”

“Will you tell me my name?”

“You will only forgot again.”

The blond pulled away, a look of what seemed to be determination. He thought it only looked like a face of a puppy.

“I will not forgot! I will remember! I will keep it close to me, like I do yours.”

He chuckled. “You never have to forget my name. I never change it.”

“You change your last name, but I still remember it.”

Another laugh. “Only because their line is still ruling strong.” 

And another kiss- but this time on the lips.

“Ardyn, please tell me my name.”

“Very well.”


	3. Chapter 3

He awoke. Silence. No.

His mind adjusted against the haze of sleep. 

A hiccup. A sob. A hitch of breath. 

He glanced to his side. There. The mattress closest to him.

“Noctis?”

Another hitch. He watched his nephew turn slowly, the boy always so shy.

Wordlessly, he sat up and opened his arms, and he immediately received a barreling armful of a ten year old. He placed him comfortably on his lap, so no sharp knees go stabbing into places where they shouldn’t. He was immortal, no invincible.

Noctis cried into his chest. His shirt was being used as a muffler for his nephew’s harsh sobs. The poor boy was too much aware of himself. He felt sorrow, knowing his nephew was too afraid to show emotion. Too afraid to burden anyone with his sadness.

It was lucky when he wasn’t just anyone. He was someone.

He was the top three people his nephew would confide in. Noctis had told him this. Told him with a fragile whisper when they both laid next to each other under his nephew’s bed, hiding from the monsters that seemed to lurk inside his nephew’s mattress. 

He pulled his weeping nephew away from his chest, and rested a hand against a puffy cheek. He wiped a tear with his thumb and moved to thread his hand through his pillow-messy hair. “What did you see?”

His nephew hesitated only for a second, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to recall the gruesome visions he often suffered from. He used to suffer from them too. 

So called blessings from the Astrals. How pleasant and worthy. How awful and dreadful. It depended on which side you were on. It depended on whether you didn’t receive the visions or you did.

“I was sitting on the throne.”

A familiar start.

“And it  _ hurt _ Uncle.  _ It hurt so bad _ …” His nephew’s eyes were starting to flood with tears again. “I s-saw Dad and he--” 

The dam broke once more and the tears began to flow free. He knew this vision well. He knew well long before his nephew had first seen it. Knew it well long before Regis had been conceived.

The Chosen King. He always knew it was not him sitting on the throne. He felt as if he was another person. Someone who had accepted his fate, yet was scared out of his wits all the same. Not his wits. Noctis’ wits. He was feeling the emotions that were to swirl around his nephew’s last moments. Awful and Dreadful indeed. 

He held his nephew close and slowed the rubbing motion through Noctis’ black sweat-matted hair. Awful and Dreadful indeed.

_ “My dear. Please, if you could?” _

_ “Another vision, so soon?” _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “Have you--” _

_ “Yes, it was the first thing I did.” _

_ “...Alright, then come here.” _

He could feels it. One phantom hand caressing his cheek and the other at the back of his head. His hands mirrored them on his nephew. He closed his eyes as a soft shine illuminated the room.

_ “Are you alright?” _

_ “Much better. Thank you my dear.” _

_ “No need. I still think it’s an awful thing. Not only awful, but dreadful too! Awful and dreadful.” _

_ “It is the will of the Astrals, my dear. You and I, out of everyone should know.” _

_ “I know. But I will still think it so!” _

“Of course you will.”

He kissed his nephew’s forehead before Noctis’ pulled away. He watched as his nephew rubbed his eyes, the boy growing tired. He carried him back over to the rightful bed, and tucked him in as the boy’s blinking began to slow.

“Are you alright?”

He couldn’t help but give a small smile as soft snores had been the response.

He gave one more once over before returning to his own bed. He stopped at the window on the way, the moon shining strangely brighter than before. He would have liked to think it was a blessing from someone dear, but he pushed that away. 

He sighed before closing his eyes, and settled in bed. Not dreaming. Not sleeping. 

A vision assaulted him. 

He tried not to leap from his sheets when the vision ended. Tried not to frantically check his hands for blood of the Lady Oracle. Tried not to tear his hair out to see if it was crimson soaked blond. Only when he stopped trying to crawl out of his own body, he laid back onto his mattress.

He did not move to write the vision down. No longer needing to document it, as he no longer had a way of forgetting. It will continue to haunt him, lingering in the back of his mind. 

He pondered. 

Funny, fate.


	4. Chapter 4

He brewed some jasmine tea, no matter that his nephew particularly despised herbal drinks, it was best to settle tense muscles. His soft clinks of the spoon against ceramic echoed harshly in the silent room. He heard Gladiolus’ unsteady breathing as the poor lad tried to keep his emotions in check. How rare it was to hear. 

It was an awful tryst of a day. It was understandable. 

_ “What do you mean?!” _

Ah. Noctis had awoken. He was curious as to what caused the outburst. Perhaps it was something Ignis has said. 

He closed his eyes. The King’s devoted Advisor. How willing he was to die for Noctis’ safety. He warned him, the consequences of wearing the ring was dire, and Prompto was unstoppable. No man, except for the Chosen King could strike Prompto down. His knuckles whitened as he clasped a mug. And even then, the Chosen King would die. Funny, fate. 

Ignis paid the price, just to falter Prompto from getting any closer to Noctis. To stop Prompto from dropping a dagger into Noctis’ chest. Foolish boy. Prompto would never. He was only taunting.. But how could he explain that to Ignis when the decollated body of Lunafreya lay to waste nearby?

Placing the last mug on the tray, he carried it over to the table where Gladiolus sat by. Silently, the shield thanked him with a nod, before taking a cup. He wanted to say that the tea was just brewed and it would be too hot to consume, yet as the tea was about to burn Gladiolus’ upper lip--the cup was pulled away.

“Iggy, how is he?”

“...Distraught to put it lightly. It will be some time until he can recover.”

He gracefully guided Ignis to sit and placed his hands gingerly around the heat of the cup. “You both will need time as well. We shall rest here for a few days, until our gracious host gives us the boot.” 

Gladiolus tensed at his suggestion. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? The empire might strike again. We might be running out of time too. Who knows what’s gonna happen!”

Riling up, slowly but surely, the shield was. He took a sip of his scalding tea and turned his attention to Ignis when

“Are you to say you don’t need time to recover?”

He chuckled lightly. It was no secret between the royal line. He was immortal. He had liked to have said that he lived more lives than there are stars in the sky, but that was simply not true. He had lived many lives. But only for a few millennia. Perhaps...two? Two and a half? He tutted. “I am old, and have more things to worry about than myself.” He gave Ignis a look when the man opened his mouth, but then. Ah. The lack of sight. “There must be someone to guide the guide. It is the reason why I decided to come along, my dear boy.” 


	5. Chapter 5

He picked up the toys scattered around the room. 

“Why must you be so messy?”

He heard a giggle.

Ah. The closet. 

He put away the toys. Away inside the trunk that sat at the end of the child’s bed, before making his way to the closed closet. 

He opened it with a cry, which made the children hiding in the closet dissolve into giggles. Well. Count one child and one fully grown adult. How his love hid along with their child always baffled him.

“My dear,”

He started exasperated. 

“Must you always get yourself into this mess?”

The mess: The blond always getting stuck in the small spaces where their child chose to hide. 

His love laughed. Even though the position he was in seemed to be quite painful, the blond did not show it.

“You know I don’t think things through some times...”

“Not ‘some times’. You never think things through.”

Their child giggled once more, sitting on her bed. 

“Don’t you laugh at your Dad! Once I get out of here, you’ll be in for it!”

Their child squeaked and scurried away, out their room. Possibly to hide for her parents to find them again. 

“I could just leave you here and start looking for her.” 

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Hmm. I would actually--”

“DADDY?!”

Both jumped. Their child had cried out in fear.

He wrenched the blond from the closet, causing his love to cry out in pain. He stopped his frantic movement. He had to check if his love was okay.

“Go to her, I’m fine!”

He jolted. The blond was in pain. His love looked like he dislocated something. He needed to fix it. To heal it--

“GO!”

He didn’t. He stayed. They lost their child. 

He woke.

His thoughts became a tangled mess as he gazed at the sleeping men next to him. He could not breathe.

Stepping out of the tent, he let the blue glow of the haven illuminate his way to a chair. 

What happened that day, he wished he could forget.

He did not go to their child. He stayed by his love’s side. Duty-bound for more than a millennia had turned to shackles and chains. His body would not disobey the need to protect his Oracle. The child was expendable. The child was not of their blood.

Those thoughts haunt him.

They never found out what had happened to their child. Or why they found her mamed into nothing but a puddle of broken bones and blood.

A sabertooth? A daemon? A madman?

They did not know.

His love had spewed hatred towards him. He did not retaliate.

“Why didn’t you go?”

“...I am truly sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t bring her back.”

“My dear, I--”

“I will never have another child.”

He watched as his love moved to the door. He swallowed.

“You do not mean that.”

“You’re right.” The blond looked to him. “I will never have another child  _ with you. _ ”

His love opened the door.

“Goodbye, Ardyn”

And left.

He would not see his love for many decades. He would not see him until he turned on the television. An announcer gave blessings to the King and Queen of a far away land called Tenebrae. A beautiful baby girl, the announcer had said.

His heart shattered. Funny, fate.


	6. Chapter 6

“My dear. You need to pace yourself.”

“Each day I rest, the more people are hurt.”

“You will be no help to the people if you’re dead.”

“It is not that dire.”

“It is.”

The blond huffed from his place, lying in bed. His love was bedridden from healing the blight of the world. Not caring to take a break. It drove him mad.

“I do not understand how you could know more than me? It is my body. If I say I am fine, I am.”

“How can I believe you? The other day, you told me you were fine before collapsing onto a vowess.”

“I apologised!”

“That is not the point I am making here.” 

He parted from writing at his desk and made his way to sit on the edge of their bed. His hands held the blond’s gently. 

“You need to take care. You are the Oracle. The light against the dark.” He stared at the blond’s soft hands. His love’s fair skin freckled from hill to vale. 

“I will not expire so soon.”

“...I am afraid that you will.”

His confession was quiet. A whisper amongst the sweet-tempered breeze that drifted through the open window. He dared not look at his love’s face. He was afraid. He was afraid to be afraid. He was born to be the Oracle’s blade. As much as the blond was born to be the King’s heart.

“Funny, fate.”

He looked up, yet remained silent.

“You are right. I am pushing myself too far. I cannot risk to be so childish and forgo my health. I’m sorry, my love. I shall try to not do it again.”

The determination set on his love’s face. A face of a young pup is all he could see. He kissed the blond softly and pulled away, looking back to their clasped hands. 

“Just stay alive and by my side. That is all I ask.”

“I will do it for you, Ardyn.”

“I will also do it for you--”

Prompto woke. 


	7. Chapter 7

He grasped the hand of the blond’s, whispering in deep baritone.

"My dear..."

“Please, make it stop.”

“I cannot. They are within me as well.”

He watched tears streak down the blond’s face. He wiped his tears with his thumb, chest tightening when his love let out a sob. 

“I-I didn’t want this!” 

“I know, my dear.”

“How are you so calm?!”

“I am as distraught as you are.”

The blond cried harder. 

He pulled away and made his way to the tent. He pulled the cups he had lying around, and called forth the kettle. He returned to his love’s side, near the fire, and silently began to make tea. Jasmine, no matter that his love particularly despised herbal drinks, brewed slowly amongst the flames. 

He spared a glance at the blond, who had fallen silent and stared at the flicker of the fire. 

“What if someone finds out.” 

He turned away from his love. 

“They will not.”

Someone does. His brother does. Izunia will call them the next week, a messenger on a chocobo. The messenger will give him a letter that preaches feasts of their honor, and how his absence placed a sorrow in his brother’s heart.

They will arrive. Hand in hand. His love wearing the finest of silks, adorn with sunflowers and baby’s breath that were picked on their way over. He smiled proud and strong, feeling warmth as his love shared a bright smile of his own. 

It seemed the daemons were quiet. For both of them. 

It seemed.

During the feast, his love felt faint. The blond spoke slow, under his breath, into his ear. 

“They are louder than the King’s Court.”

“Just a little while longer, then we may retire.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to insult your brother.” 

“Thank you, my dear.”

The blond gave him a chaste kiss and turned back to his plate. 

He was speaking to his brother, regaling in tales on each side, when the light cough from his right turned to harsh heaving.

A gasp. A scream. Goblets spluttering to the ground. Swords being drawn from sheaths. 

“What is the meaning of this?!” His brother bellowed. His brother’s face twisting into a crimson rage.

He stared wide eyed at his love.

The blond’s hand covering his mouth, trying to stop the rupture of black rancorous. His love trembled as the sick slipped through his pale fingers, onto the table. 

He held his love’s arms. 

“We must leave.”

“You will go nowhere.”

Hurrying towards the door of the King’s Court, the guards would stand in their way. His King’s word being law. 

“Would you really think I would let you leave?”

He turned, expression pleading.

“He is sick! I beg of you, dear brother, you know I do not like begging. We will leave your kingdom and continue our journey of healing the blight.”

“You will no longer journey.”

Pardon?

“You both will be locked away. You will no longer spread the blight that harms our star, daemons!” 

He held his love close into his arms, hiding the blond away from the millions of eyes.

“Izunia--”

The blond whimpered.

“I am King. My word is law.” His brother slowly took his throne. “I must think of my people. Our blood does not mean anything.”

“But our journey was the will of the Astrals!”

His love was angry.

“Silence your tainted light!”

His love grew angrier.

“I WILL NOT BE SILENCED.”

“My dear--”

“No! Now that we are here. In front of the crystal. In front of our All Father.” The blond glared outright to the shining light that sparkled and glittered behind the tensing King. 

“We have been risking our lives to heal and save our people. Why are we being punished for setting things right?!”

He’s hands tightened on his love’s arms. 

“We do not question the Astr--”

“I do.”

The King watched in silence. Unamused, he waved his hand. The guards grabbed hold of his love. Of him. They pull, and pull, and pull. 

He does not see his love until a century passes. His chest hollow as he hangs still, crucified for his wrong right-doings. His head ringing, echoes of his love’s broken voice crying out.

“ _ ARDYN! _ ”

He laughed when his love finally smells the tea. The blond’s nose scrunching up. 

“You know I dislike herbal tea…”

“It will soothe you.”

He loved the weight of his love on his lap.

The blond rested on his shoulder, muttering quietly as his love wrapped his arms around him. 

“You soothe me.”

“And you soothe me.”

They both knew, wordlessly, that they spoke of the daemons twisting and scratching beneath their skin. 


	8. Chapter 8

He watched his brother flaunt his prowess with the sword. Behind a window. He watched the girls swoon and fawn at his brother’s graceful stances and charming looks. He looked away, back to his book. The page depicted a grinning prince, holding the hand of a beautiful maiden.

This was what a prince should be. He turned to stare at his brother once more.

A knock at the door startled him.

“My dear,” A gentle voice. “What are you doing in the dark? Your eyes will cease to work!” She waved her hand against the wick of a candle. The room illuminated all at once. A fiery spell igniting the candles that decorated the room.

“I could see just fine, mother. I was using magic to see.”

She smiled, her beauty outshining the flame of the candle in her grasp.

“If you keep practicing your magic, you will wear yourself out.” She sat next to him. He shyly closed the book. “The festival will commence shortly. I am sure you will not want to miss it!”

She gave him a knowing look. He tried to keep the blood rising to his cheeks. His mother gave a soft laugh.

Everything she did was just that. Soft. Gentle. Light.

“Come now, my dear.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “We must get ready, lest your father will throw a fit of our tardiness.”

He remembered. As he stared down at the worn book. He turned his gaze to his young nephew. Blue eyes bright and twinkling. His small four year old frame hiding behind the large fairytale book.

“Iggy is in class…Can you…”

He smiled. His nephew was shy, and so, so full of light. Pure. He placed his nephew on his lap and let the tiny hands open the book.

Noctis gasped softly at the first illustration underneath the cursive scripture. His tiny hands curled then unfurled, his small fingers tracing the soft turquoise colour as if petting the small sleeping animal.

“Do you know who that is, Noct?”

His nephew threw his head back to look at him. His chin nearly being a victim of a headbutt.

“Carbuncle!”

He chuckled.

“That’s right, Noct. Carbuncle. Your father’s guardian.”

“Guardian...”

“Yes. And one day, he will be your guardian as well.”

Unfortunately, Carbuncle will come to his nephew’s aide a lot younger than he and the King would have hoped.

“Now, which fairy tale would you like?”

They turned the page to the contents. A list of scripture of Astrals nursery rhymes, to tales such as the Toad Prince.

“Ardyn’s story! Uncle Ardyn’s story!”

He stilled as his nephew lightly tapped the title. In fancy script, it read--


	9. Chapter 9

He stared at his reflection. “I...Mother, I--”

“Hush now, my dear. Hush.” She glided behind him, hands on his shouldered. “You look nothing but handsome. My young shining prince.” Her smile, he thought, shined brighter. Always shined brighter. 

“If you say so, mother.”

“I know so, my dear.” She walked towards his bed and picked up a box. He watched the turquoise box in her hands, adored with a wonderful red ribbon. She handed it to him wordlessly. 

“The final touch, my dear.” 

He opened it and let his eyes widen a little. 

“M-Mother, I cannot--”

“But you will, my dear.”  He looked from the inside to her. She smiled once more. He doesn’t think her smile has left her face since. “Such is tradition. I deem you worthy.”

He took the item in his hands.

“The young oracle has also…” She looked away, then back to him. Her smile wavered. He didn’t understand. Of course he didn’t. He was ten. He did not know what the future held. He did not know at the time that his mother had been given visions of the Astrals. Of his fate. Of how they must play the parts they were given. 

She composed herself. A bright smile.

“The young oracle has also deemed you worthy.” 

He cheeks heated. His mother covered his red face with the item. A mask shaped to fit his face. He stared at himself in the mirror. 

And the face of Carbuncle stared back.

“My, my, dear brother! Is that you?”

His brother had called out to him as he reached the bottom of the steps of the outside of the castle. His brother’s face was covered with a mask of a behemoth. It fit with his brutishness.

“No, Izunia. I am the guardian to the Lucis line. Carbuncle.”

His brother laughed, and horns sounded. 

In the distance, a soft glow. He felt his throat constrict. His blood rushing to his head. 

He sat, the blond, on a soft pillow on the carried altar. He glanced to the crowd, blue eyes shimmering. Lights made his skin twinkle, illuminated to rival the moon.

“I can hear you waxing poetry from here.”  His brother elbowed him, “Make sure you introduce yourself properly to the young oracle, you know, before the next millenia.”

His brother disappeared into the crowd before he could retort. His eyes trailed back to the beauty. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friend ash said post so i be doing that

He watched, silently. Spoke nothing. And it only made Ardyn’s gut coil.

 

The witchery this man had worked on Ardyn. The trickery that he bestowed on his nephew. It made Ardyn’s blood boil.

 

It got him pushed off the train. The man made his nephew push Ardyn off the train. When both men knew how much Noctis had already lost. It made Ardyn’s blood boil.

 

The grin, so wicked and pure of ire, glimmered under the harsh lights of the laboratory. The man rested a chin on the backs of his hands, leaning on the back of a chair, sitting on it backwards. Seeing the daemon slouching in His body made Ardyn angrier.

 

“Do sit properly. We wouldn’t want you getting a hump in your back.” Ardyn managed to rouse. Ardyn’s tongue felt thick. Words a slur as he pushed blood around his mouth.

 

The daemon laughed. “You and I both know such thing won’t happen. My body is the perfect form...I would imagine you would remember?”

 

The daemon slipped from his chair and swayed over to Ardyn. His red eyes trailed on Ardyn, head to toe. He smiled, a childish grin. “I dare say I can remember the last time you were like this.” His cold hands smoothed over Ardyn’s shirtless torso. “Strung up like a martyr, arms spread.”

 

He pressed his cheek against Ardyn’s chest, and closed his eyes. “Your cries had haunted me for so long. The sight of blood pouring from every orifice you owned. Wounds deeper than the rivers of Eos ran.”

 

The daemon pulled back, and looked at Ardyn with a coeurl’s grin. “You looked disgustingly pathetic.” Slipping away from him, the daemon moved towards the table.

 

From Ardyn’s peripheral, he could name an array of tools. Torture was such a messy thing. He sighed. Ardyn hoped that his nephew would take his time. He needn’t witness the mess Ardyn had become. He would try to heal before Noctis arrived.


End file.
